


The Floral Project.

by RussianSunflower3



Series: Sunflower's HanaIwa week [6]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Confessions, Flowers, Fluff, Fluffyfest, Hanamaki's mother is precious and I love her, Hanamaki's sisters are the devil incarnate, How is this boy still alive?, Literally just sappy boys with feelings, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 21:39:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7774657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianSunflower3/pseuds/RussianSunflower3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hanamaki's been finding flowers and branches and petals all morning! What on earth is his gay little heart going to do when he finds out it's his crush sending him these 'messages by mother nature'?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Floral Project.

Hanamaki was most confused when one day, out of the blue, he stepped out of his house and found a lone twig of a sakura tree, decorated in pink blossom, lying on the doorstep. He raised a thin eyebrow, staring down at it with a small amount of confusion; he noticed there was a white label attached to it, wrapped delicately around the main stick.

_Cherry Blossom  
Kind and gentle. _

His first thought was that it was supposed to be for one of his older sisters, but he dismissed the thought when he saw his initials etched into the corner. He could feel his cheeks heating up and ears burning, so he ducked back inside. Staring at the branch with disbelief, he lay it across the kotatsu surface and _glared_ at it. Who dare leave him this strange gift with no clue whatsoever about _**why**_?

“Takehiro, I thought you had left! Oh, what’s this?” His mother appeared in the living room doorway in her nightdress, hair shambled and knotted, and empty coffee mug in her hand. 

“A branch. Someone left it on her doorstep.” Hanamaki’s mother gave a dramatic gasp and clasped a hand over her heart, feigning bewilderment and bashfulness to the extreme.

“Could it be? A secret admirer for moi?! Oh, how _long_ I have waited, I-”

“It’s for me.” She cut herself off with a disgruntled whine and relaxed back into standing up straight, hands on her hips and coffee mug dangling from a thumb.

“I never get any gifts. But hey, a secret admirer for _you_? That’s amazing; I never thought I’d see the day my baby boy gained admirers!” Hanamaki gagged and rolled his eyes, examining the tag once more. He thought he’d seen that handwriting before, but he couldn’t quite remember where or who by. He would have liked to investigate a little further, but time was ticking and school was dawning. Luckily, there was no practice today thanks to a virus caught by both the coaches.

“I’m off. Do what you want with the mini tree.” Leaving the glorified stick on the kotatsu, Hanamaki made his way outside once more. He picked up into a jog as the school gates came into sight and _they were closing_! With millimetres to spare, he slipped through the gate and carried on to his classroom, skidding into his seat seconds before the history teacher entered. He stood and bowed with the rest of his classmates, before flopping back into his chair and sighing. 

“Take out your books and turn to page 36.” As Hanamaki reached under the desk, his fingers brushed something that was _definitely_ not the cover of his history book. He felt around a little more before determining that it was a flower. Pulling out his history book, he recognised the flower atop it as a pansy, with deep purple petals and lush green leaves. This one was also labelled, the white sticky note carefully wrapped around the stem, loose enough that it could slide right off without causing harm to the pretty flower. 

_Pansy  
Thoughtful and caring. _

The corners of Hanamaki’s lips twitched upwards and he tucked it back under his desk for safekeeping until break time. With his thoughts on the flowers, the lessons rushed past. Hanamaki barely even noticed when the teachers switched over. He twirled his pen around his fingers skilfully; thankful that the window was closed when he dropped it several times, only to pick it up and carry on. The only reason he was in Class 3 was because of how easily distracted he got, as well as constantly forgetting to write things down. If he took notes, he’d probably be sharing Class 6 with Oikawa.

Finally, it was time for break, and Hanamaki pulled the pansy out before tucking his history book away, gently slotting the pansy into his blazer chest pocket so that the beautiful petals peeked out the top. Thumbs slotted into his waistband and minimally slouching, he strolled out the classroom to where he and the other third years would meet for the 15 minutes. 

“Makki~!” Oikawa waved from down the corridor, and Hanamaki quickly realised he was strangely alone.

“Hey Oikawa. Where’s Iwaizumi?” Oikawa waves a hand casually as if to brush off the bitterness he felt at being _abandoned_.

“He said he had to do something. He never told me what, but he was in a real rush.” Matsukawa comes up from behind Hanamaki with a yawn, plopping his chin onto his best friends shoulder. Apparently, he’d slept through class again. Honestly, by this point, it wasn’t even a surprise and Hanamaki reached up to ruffle his hair. 

“Did I miss anything?”

“Only that Iwaizumi has a secret mission.”

“Oh shit, that’s awesome.” Hanamaki rolled his eyes in amusement as how gullible Matsukawa was when he was sleepy, and was about to comment, when Oikawa reached over and plucked the pansy from Hanamaki’s blazer pocket.

“Hey-!”

“Why is Iwa-chan sending you _flowers_?” Hanamaki startled and blushed, blinking with a mixture of disbelief and joyous silence. Internally, he was screaming. He’d had a massive crush on Iwaizumi that had suddenly smacked him in the face near the end of their second year. Matsukawa perked up with a sly smirk and wriggled his eyebrows.

“From Iwaizumi, huh~?”

“Sh-Shut up! It might _not_ be. In fact, it probably isn’t.” Oikawa, with a wide-eyed innocence, held out the label attached on the pansy stem.

“I can identify Iwa-Chan’s handwriting anywhere.”

“... Oh my god, I _knew_ I recognised it.” Matsukawa suddenly reached out and smacked both of them on the chest, prompting Oikawa to look in the direction Matsukawa was looking and tucking the pansy back into Hanamaki’s blazer pocket, before winking and holding a finger over his lips in a gesture that said this knowledge was to be kept secret. Hanamaki nodded, but his blush didn’t seem to agree and only deepened when Iwaizumi approached from a side corridor.

“Yo.”

“Iwa-chan, hurry! I’m trying to convince Makki and Mattsun to download Love Live! Help me advertise it to them!” With a disgruntled expression, Iwaizumi stared at the two with very little emotion and completely deadpanned his voice.

“School idol rhythm game with pretty good songs that are sung by some good voices. Then there’s Nico.” Oikawa gasped with offence.

“Are you suggesting my daughter isn’t a good singer?!”

“One; She isn’t your daughter. Two; That’s _exactly_ what I’m saying. She’s an annoying shit that doesn’t belong in an idol group. Maybe behind the scenes, but certainly not in public.” 

“Iwa-chan, I am _**offended**_ by your betrayal! I disown you as my best friend. Goodbye, Iwaizumi! You mean nothing to me!” Marching off with a sassy sway to his hips, Oikawa disappeared into his own classroom. Iwaizumi sighed and rolled his eyes as Matsukawa raised a thick eyebrow.

“Whoa. Discourse to the max.” 

“It’s not even discourse, it’s just Oikawa. He’s being- Hanamaki? Are you okay? You look a little flushed...” Iwaizumi reached up to place a hand on Hanamaki’s forehead, noticing how reddened and dazed he appeared, until Hanamaki squeaked and slapped the hand away.

“I’m fine! I just-! I have to-! Uh!” He ran. Pushing Matsukawa off his shoulder, Hanamaki retreated to the safety of his classroom. It wasn’t just that he’d been faced with his crush, who had sent him a branch and a pansy, with kind and wonderful meanings. It was the fact that he had seen a loose _red petal_ poking out of Iwaizumi’s right hand pocket. Groaning, Hanamaki planted his face into his desk and banged his forehead there a few times.

A red petal could be so many different flowers. It could be rose, a camellia, a tulip, a chrysanthemum, or a poppy. So many different meanings, and each one left Hanamaki a flustered mess.

Iwaizumi was leaving him cute messages by flower.

_Iwaizumi_ was sending him cute _flowers_.

Iwaizumi was-

“Cute...” The sigh slipped out of Hanamaki’s lips and he made a sound of disgust at how lovesick he sounded before burying his face in his arms because there was no doubt in his mind whatsoever, that he was **doomed**. Either his ridiculous crush was going to kill him, or the flowers were going to do it for him.

By lunch, Hanamaki was _really_ on edge. What had Iwaizumi done during break? Where had he hidden a flower? What flower was it? These questions had brewed in his head for the lesson hours, and now, he felt like a melted mushy mess. As soon as class was dismissed, he grabbed his bento box and raced through the hallways and to his shoe locker, changing into outdoor shoes to sprint over to the table Oikawa had claimed was ‘theirs’ during first year, and they had sat at ever since. Sure enough, on the table, there was a red poppy blue-tacked to Hanamaki’s seat, the label this time placed next to it and cellotaped down.

_Red poppy  
Fun-loving._

With a high-pitched whine, Hanamaki held the poppy in his hands as his face once more impacted the surface in front of him. He stayed that way until a steady hand pat his back comfortingly.

“Go ‘way, Matsukawa. I’m mourning the loss of my ability to remain calm.”

“Uh- I’m sorry to hear that?” Hanamaki jolts and looks up with wide eyes. It’s not Matsukawa. In fact, it’s the last person he thinks he can ‘spill the beans’ to. It’s Iwaizumi, who appears mildly confused by Hanamaki’s phrasing.

“Matsukawa and Oikawa went to get food, if you’re wondering. Although, I wasn’t expecting you to be here this early.” Hanamaki freezes and finds himself letting out a long sound of contemplation, attempting to get his brains back in order as he stares at Iwaizumi, the poppy still held in his hands and highly visible. He _thinks_ he can see the red tips to Iwaizumi’s ears and it pretty much confirms what Oikawa was saying about Iwaizumi being the one to leave the flowers behind.

“Uhhhhhhh... I’m just-... I’m gonna-... Milk.” He wriggles off the bench and toddles over to the vending machines around the corner with an awkward gait. He slots the coins in one by one extremely slowly, trying to buy time for Matsukawa and Oikawa to return. Because he _really_ cannot compose himself around Iwaizumi for now. Maybe tomorrow. But for today, he’s a babbling and blushing mess with flowers in his blazer pocket and a branch at home.

The milk carton drops from the spiral and he sighs, picking it out before peering around the corner to see if Oikawa or Matsukawa have turned up. They haven’t, but Iwaizumi has disappeared too. There’s a flower on his part of the table, slotted into the gaps between the wooden planks. Confused, Hanamaki walks over and picks it up, noting that the label isn’t attached to this one either. It’s haphazardly scrawled on a loose piece of torn paper that could have easily blown away in a breeze.

_Amaryllis  
I’m sorry, I’m a little **shy**_.

“O- Oh my word... How can one person be so fucking adorable...?” Hanamaki pockets the amaryllis and the message, opening his bento box and eating in silence. At least, until Oikawa and Matsukawa come down from the school shop, dragging Iwaizumi with them. He’s pouting and blushing heavily, eyes flickering up to Hanamaki and then diverting back to the ground in shyness, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his head. Hanamaki knows very well that he could make his knowledge of Iwaizumi being his ‘secret admirer’ public, but chooses to withhold it, because honestly? He wants to see which flower comes next.

He’s not surprised, at the end of the day, when he finds a gardenia tucked in the back of his shoe locker, hidden by his outside shoes until he changes them over.

“Secret love, huh?” Hanamaki almost jumps out of his skin and whirls around.

“Jeez, Oikawa! Stop scaring the shit out of me!” With a giggle, Oikawa strikes his traditional peace sign whilst winking.

“Iwa-chan left early, so walk home with me!” 

“Hell no, you live in the opposite direction to me.”

“Then I’ll walk with Makki!”

“... You just want to see if I get another flower, don’t you?” Oikawa whines and pouts, nuzzling his forehead into Hanamaki’s shoulder.

“It’s so cute and tender, I wish someone would do it for meeee! Who knew Iwa-chan was so capable of being romantic?!” Hanamaki chuckles breathily, because he’s pretty sure Iwaizumi has always been this way, listening to Oikawa’s stories of dates with interest and a sparkle in his eye, reading shoujo manga with a soft smile, and absolutely beaming when they’re in a cafe and he sees someone offering their food on a fork to their partner. Hanamaki slows in tying the laces on his outdoor shoes as he realises just how _much_ he’s been watching and admiring Iwaizumi, since even before he knew about his crush.

“... Hey, Oikawa?”

“Yes?”

“I think I could use your help with something. Can we visit a florist on the way home?” Oikawa claps his hands with glee and cackles.

“This is going to be so much fun!”

Hanamaki makes it home with less money than he had planned, and a bouquet of blue, pink, and white. He sets it up in a vase overnight to keep them healthy and alive, tying a yellow ribbon around the stems once he has them neatly arranged. Afterwards, he presses the flowers he has received, as well as a couple of blossom petals, and tucks them safely in a scrapbook he’s kept since middle school. 

He sets his alarm for a little earlier, and goes to bed, dreaming of sitting in a field of beautiful fragrances and a light breeze sweeping specks of colours over his gaze, hand warm in someone else’s that he can’t see because he keeps looking up, but he knows from feel along that it’s Iwaizumi’s. They’ve arm-wrestled enough for him to know the calloused and tough texture, but gentle touch that’s almost scared of hurting people. 

He awakes to his alarm bleeping in his ear and bolts up in bed, throwing off the covers. He crawls over to the window and pushes it wide open, peering out. There are no flowers on the doorstep yet, but it is an entire hour early. Breathing out steadily, Hanamaki grabs a beanbag from the corner and sinks into it to watch, and wait. If anything, the sunrise is a beautiful thing to witness, and he’s thankful that he was able to see it. As he yawns, movement outside catches in his peripheral vision. He ducks beneath the windowsill and counts to ten to calm himself, before slowly peering over it.

“Aha, caught in the act~...” He whispers to himself as he witnesses Iwaizumi looking both ways before scarpering from behind a bin to besides a lamppost, a couple of flowers in hands. It’s nothing compared to the bouquet Hanamaki brought yesterday, and it’s only a couple of flower types, but Hanamaki feels his facial expression soften and lips tug into a smile as his heart thumps a little harder anyways. Iwaizumi approaches timidly, jumping at every noise and looking around to make sure nobody is looking, which results in Hanamaki ducking down frequently, but then the small bunch is placed gently down on Hanamaki’s doorstep and Iwaizumi darts away.

Quietly – because his three sisters are still sleeping and he doesn’t call them ‘Three Oni’ for nothing – Hanamaki tiptoes down the stairs and unlocks the front door. The latch clicks and he bites his lip at the loud noise, but when there’s no noise from upstairs, he exhales in relief and opens the door to reveal a small bunch of white and yellow.

_White roses and Daffodils.  
I want to **devote** myself to if, but I will **respect** if you say no._

Hanamaki brings them inside, running his hands over the silky petals with a tender smile and minding the thorns on the roses. He breathes in their aroma before tucking them into the vase with the bouquet he purchased last night. He looks at the bouquet with a sense of excitement. Today, he doesn’t have school due to a trip to the dentist to get his wisdoms removed, so he can carry out his plan. He sneaks back up the stairs and fires off a message to Matsukawa to fill him in with ‘the plan’ and consent to his role in it, before shuffling back under the covers and catching another couple of hours of sleep.

His mother wakes him, and Hanamaki dresses quickly into casual clothes, brushing his teeth twice after eating a plain breakfast, and then plucks the bouquet from the vase with a growing sense of anticipation. He slips into the passenger seat of the car and anxiously taps his fingers against his leg as his mother starts the engine.

“Hey mum, mind if we make a stop by the school? There’s something I need to do, very quickly.” She pauses, glancing at him with a raised eyebrow that flickers down to the flowers in his laps.

“Are you going to put those in the locker of an enemy deathly allergic to flowers?”

“Wha-?! No! No way!” She rolls her eyes and scoffs, turning back to the dashboard and checking the fuel levels.

“You school children are so _weak_ nowadays. In my day, if there weren’t three deaths each year, there would be a massive paintball-to-the-death event.”

“... What the _fuck_ , mum? Where did you go to school?”

“A private all-girls school. I was hoping to send Fumiko and Aki there too, but alas, your father took half the funding when he left.” Hanamaki sends up a silent prayer of thank you to whatever deity is protecting him, because he cannot imagine two of The Three Oni being even _more_ cruel and devilish. 

“So, what are the flowers for?” She pulls out the driveway, heading in the direction of the school without waiting for an explanation, which Hanamaki is appreciative for. He’s pretty sure she would have refused to drive this far if she knew the real reason. Once she’s got her mind set on something, however, she never turns around. So it’s perfectly safe for him to explain.

“So... You know you called me ‘a soppy bastard with no balls’ when I told you I had a crush but wasn’t brave enough to confess...”

“I recall something like that, yes.”

“Well... I grew some balls, mum. I’m confessing.” Hanamaki finds himself almost going face first through the windscreen when his mother slams on the brakes with a squeal, the seatbelts saving them both. She dramatically throws her arms around with a fake sob, pulling him into a sideways hug that almost crushes his ribs because _she’s really freaking strong help me holy shit I’m going to die in my mother’s arms-_

“Mum...! Can’t breathe...! You’ll kill me before I get the chance!” Clearing her throat, she returns to her seat and starts the car once more, perhaps a little over the speed limit. 

“I’m sorry, Taka! I’m just so happy for you~!”

“Muuuum... He hasn’t even said yes yet.” Hanamaki thinks he hears her whisper something under her breath, something along the lines of _“fuckin’ knew he was gay, Yuima owes me 1000 yen.”_ Really, he’s not surprised. He knows the youngest of his elder sisters has a habit of making bets on her younger brother, as sweet as she can occasionally be.

“Well, just know that I’m supporting you, honey~! Don’t worry, I’ll ask you **all** about him whilst you’re doped up on dentistry drugs~.” Suddenly, Hanamaki fears for his life.

They make it to the school with many further debates and constant bickering/teasing, and Hanamaki jumps out as he sees Matsukawa standing at the gate, fiddling with the lock.

“You are a _life-saver_ , Mattsun. If we get caught, I’ll pay bail.”

“Where the hell are you gonna get that sort of money from?”

“Well, apparently, we have half a private school fund.” Matsukawa doesn’t ask questions, though he looks dubious and puzzled. He’s learned to accept and sometimes love most of the weird things that come from the Hanamaki family, Takehiro included in the generalisation. The lock on the gate clinks, and Matsukawa pulls from one side as Hanamaki tugs from the other, and they manage to open the gate just enough for Hanamaki’s slender frame to squeeze through, one hand full with the bouquet, which he’s very careful to keep away from any surfaces. They’re in pristine condition as he checks them over.

“If you don’t hurry up, you’ll be late for the dentist.”

“Oh, what a shame. So sad, too bad.” His mother glowers and Hanamaki gulps before nervously chuckling.

“Right. Hurrying up.” With Matsukawa at his side, he jogs across the courtyard and into the building.

“Holy seven levels of hell, your mum is scary.”

“I know. Please swap with me. SOS, Mattsun, I need a fucking break.” Matsukawa laughs and pats him on the back as they change into indoor shoes before sneaking quietly through the corridors. It’s almost break time, so Iwaizumi will be out soon, and Hanamaki has never felt like more of a nervous wreck. Even Matsukawa looks a little edgy, but he can’t be sure whether that’s for his sake, or because he ran out of class early.

“Ready?”

“My asshole is clenching. My hands are shaking. I’m not sure I’ll be able to speak with a pitch lower than soprano. So, yeah. I’m about as ready as I’ll ever be.” Rolling his eyes, Matsukawa ruffles Hanamaki’s hair and then walks off as the scraping of chairs signifies that the classroom door is about to open. He stage whispers back just before people start filtering out.

“ _Good luuuuuuck._ ” Hanamaki waits, bouquet of blue, pink, and white in hands, garnering some strange looks from a few people and not being noticed by others. A couple of girls giggle and he thinks he hears them mention how they wished someone would give _them_ cute flowers. His cheeks and the tips of his ears are already aflame as Iwaizumi comes out the classroom. In his hand, is a tiny yellow trumpet-shaped flower, label attached to the stem and Hanamaki suddenly realises that he must have been on the way to put it somewhere Hanamaki would find.

“Iwaizumi!” He whips around to Hanamaki, instantly starting to blush with his full body and almost crushing the flower in his hands. He clears his throat.

“H-Hanamaki, I thought you went to the d-dentist.”

“I’m gonna, soon. But first; you seem to know a lot about flowers.” Iwaizumi nods, apparently stunned beyond words. He tilts his head to try and peek around Hanamaki, who is hiding the flowers behind his back. To distract him, Hanamaki reaches out and plucks the single flower from Iwaizumi’s grasp, reading the label as Iwaizumi shuffles from one foot to the other.

_Primula.  
If you feel the same, we could have a **long-lasting love**._

Hanamaki smiles gently, tucking the primula into his jeans pocket so that the yellow petals just flare above the denim. Iwaizumi is still averting his gaze, highly embarrassed, so Hanamaki produces the bouquet from behind his back. He thrusts the bouquet into Iwaizumi’s arms, who clutches onto them in surprise.

“So, uh, can you tell me what these mean?” Iwaizumi blinks dumbly for a moment, before looking at the flowers with an expression of deep thinking.

“The Azalea means –uh – either patient or modest, depending on what you pair them with. The bluebells stand for grateful, and you have white camillas, which are... Waiting?” It dawns on Iwaizumi that this bouquet is for _him_ , and he lifts his head to ask Hanamaki if he really meant it, only to find he had already snuck away, disappearing into the sea of classmates and most likely out the building. 

Indeed, Hanamaki has made his grand escape, slinking back out the school gate and into his mother’s car, absolutely steaming with how red he was.

“That was the most _terrifying_ thing I’ve ever done.”

“So? What did he say?”

“Oh. Well, the plan wasn’t to get an answer today. So, uh, I ran.” Hanamaki’s mother throws her hands into the air as if to dramatically give up and then starts the engine anyways, because if they don’t get a move on, they’ll be late for the dentist.

Hanamaki lives, which is something he had feared wouldn’t happen, but his mouth is extremely sore and he’s fed up of these cotton wool balls in the side of his mouth, watching his mother and sisters eating take-out meals whilst he’s condemned to lying on the sofa in a fair amount of agony. It would help if they stopped laughing over the video Hanamaki’s mother recorded whilst he was high on dentistry drugs. Alas, his family is not so kind.

“Mum, play it again! I _have_ to see the way he smacked himself in the face again!”

“Shinji just asked if you can send him a copy. He wants to see too.”

“Why just _your_ boyfriend? Put it on Facebook, share with all our friends.”

“And... Uploaded!” Hanamaki makes a loud angry sound, unable to speak with the cotton wool balls wedged in his mouth. The girls laugh, and he’s left to bury his face in a pillow, wondering what horrible events happened in their life to turn them into she-devils that did everything in their power to embarrass their baby brother. 

Then, the ruckus is interrupted by a knock on the door. Hanamaki sighs in relief, he could hug whoever it is, his saving grace; his salvation in human form. His mother goes and gets the door, and Hanamaki’s blood pressure skyrockets when she comes back in the room with a shit-eating grin.

“I’ll leave you two to it~.” Two?

“Fumiko, Aki, let’s go shopping for a while~. Yuima, did you want to come with us or continue your science project?” The strawberry blonde, a little lighter than Hanamaki’s own, leans around their mother to see who it is and breaks into a beam so wonderful, that Hanamaki gets the feeling the surprise might not be so bad after all.

“I’ll come.” The three girls filter out, and Hanamaki can hear them cooing over someone in the hallway before they shout their goodbyes, and someone is shoved into the living room, the front door slamming as the females of the household make their exit. 

Hanamaki forgets how to breathe.

Standing in the middle of his living room is Iwaizumi.

Correction; A modern-day _Adonis_. He’s wearing black trousers that might be a size too small for his calf and thigh muscles, and a white button up shirt that is thin enough for Hanamaki to see the outlines of his muscles. He somewhat curses the unbuttoned tuxedo jacket for covering up Iwaizumi’s arms, except for the fact that it looks _so good_. In Iwaizumi’s arms is a huge bundle of red roses, surrounded by forget-me-nots. Hanamaki doesn’t need a label to know what they mean.

_Romantic love and true love._ He’s pretty sure that even without the cotton wool balls, he’d be grinning like a fool. He waves, and Iwaizumi quirks a genuine smile through his nervousness, stepping over slowly with the flowers in his arms.

“So, um... I forgot to ask you – before this whole thing – if you were allergic to flowers. I haven’t almost killed you, have I?” Hanamaki laughs, even though it sounds vaguely Jared-Leto-Psychotic level because of the numbness in his mouth and cotton wool. He shakes his head and gently takes the offered bunch of flowers, holding them close and breathing in the sweet fragrance. There’s another label on this one that’s rolled up, and Iwaizumi keeps flickering his gaze to it. Taking that as a cue, Hanamaki unrolls it, and his heart skips a beat.

_Roses are red, forget-me-nots are blue, will you go on a date with me, to get a cream puff or two?_

Hanamaki feels his eyes welling up with emotion, and he looks directly at Iwaizumi as he nods, delighting in the way that Iwaizumi’s face lights up, and his shoulders sag in relief. For a brief moment, there’s an awkward pause in which no one knows what to say or do.

“Uh... Should I...? Go? I don’t want to delay your recovery, if you’re hurting from the surgery.” Hanamaki shakes his head and waves his hands, shuffling up the sofa to make room for Iwaizumi, who sits down next to him without hesitation. Quite promptly, Hanamaki flops against him and claims Iwaizumi’s shoulder as his own personal pillow, comfortably nestling in. Iwaizumi chuckles soft and warm, a sound reminiscent of gentle thunder or the lowest tone of a tuba, the kind that can be _felt_ as well as heard. 

Warm and safe – as well as a little drugged up – Hanamaki drifts off. He doesn’t miss the light pressing of lips against his, and it causes him to smile as he switches off from the world, lulled into a dreamless sleep with an arm around his waist and a hand running through his hair, the lightest of kisses pressed to his forehead throughout his sleep. He doesn’t know what will happen when he wakes, or if there’s likely to be any more surprise flowers, but Hanamaki is content with the way things are at the moment.

He has an upcoming date with his crush-turned-boyfriend, a comfy ‘pillow’ to sleep on, and warm sunlight streaming through the gaps between leaves and petals of beautiful flowers, in the vase on the windowsill.


End file.
